Chapter Text
Dean’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, Grieg’s orchestra muffled. He wiped his bloody hand on his jeans, then dug into his pocket, bringing his phone out. He answered the call without checking the ID.
“Benny,” He greeted, “What’s up?”
“Hey, chief,” Benny said. A church bell rang in the background, “You and that brother a’yours anywhere near my neck of the woods, by chance?”
“Sam’s off doing…Sam stuff.”
Not a lie. He and Sam were taking a break from each other at the moment. Sam was still angry over the fake Amelia text Dean sent. A couple of weeks apart never killed anybody. It certainly didn’t kill Sam while Dean was trapped in Purgatory for a year.
He stepped over the body of a werewolf at his feet, “But I’m in Tennessee on a job. Werewolf tearing through truck stops,” He stopped, “Why?”
For a moment, Dean’s heart sank. He fingered the bloodied silver knife in his grip. He couldn’t help but think the worst.
Since Benny killed Martin Creaser and legged it from his hometown, he’s been drifting along the Southwest American coastline. Dean put a call out, telling local Hunters that the vamp who killed Creaser was already taken care of, making sure to throw them off Benny’s trail.
Dean’s been keeping tabs on him, though. Usually he puts a call through one or twice a week. Benny calls him, too, about the same number of times. They’ll talk. Sometimes about the places they were at, the jobs they were on. Mostly it was about nothing.
But Dean liked talking to Benny. He was a distraction - from Sam, from Cas, from prophets and tablets and demons. And Benny was a good conversationalist. Dean still remembered all the campfire stories he shared. Even when Cas was around, harshing Benny’s Baton Rouge groove, he still had something to say.
And outside of Purgatory, Benny was doing just fine. He was sustaining himself with blood bags he’s able to rob from blood banks and hospitals. Everyone who wanted him dead, were dead. Once in a while, he even did Dean a favor, and called just to take his mind off his blood-cravings. Having someone to talk him through it seemed to help. And it was easier over the phone, when there was nobody to hear the heartbeat of.
But Dean couldn’t always be the angel on Benny’s shoulder.
Please don’t tell me you fed on somebody. Please don’t tell me that.
“I’m passing through this little town a couple hours out of Lafayette.” Benny said, “Somethin’s got the whole place in a fervor.”
Dean relaxed at the normal tone in Benny’s voice, “Yeah, like what?”
“Graves. Somethin’s diggin’ ‘em up, takin’ the bodies.”
“Graverobbing’s weird, Benny, but not at the top of the Winchester Priority List of Weird.”
“Well it was just the graverobbin’, but I just attended a pretty somber funeral, Dean. Whatever is takin’ the bodies isn’t happy with old meat anymore.”
“You saying something’s moving on to fresh prey?” Dean thought on the MO, crossing the abandoned warehouse he had tracked the werewolf to, stepping right into a sunspot the broken windows allowed in. Something that feeds on the dead and the living? Could be any number of monsters.
“Second murder so far, Dean.”
“What’re the locals calling it?”
“Animal attacks. Sound like somethin’ you’d be interested in?”
“Maybe. You didn’t happen to talk to the grieving families, did you?”
“A little, but I’m a drifter in a small town. Not exactly inspiring trust with anybody.”
“What, you can’t work some of that Louisiana charm on them?”
Benny laughed on the other end, making Dean smile and his stomach flip, “Everybody’s got that Louisiana charm in Louisiana. It’s easy for them to weed out the snakes,” He paused, “So, you in?”
“Yeah, I’m in. Where’s the case?”
“Town called Pecan Island, near the water.”
“That’s where the attacks happened?”
“Yeah.”
“Bayou territory?”
“Ocean as far as the eye can see.”
“OK, I’ll see what I can dig up. It’s a day’s trip. Hope you’re not in a hurry to skip town.”
“Nowhere I need to be. Just don’t take your time gettin’ here, murders happened within a couple‘a days of each other.”
“Alright,” Dean checked his watch. It was about ten in the morning. He’d been tracking the werewolf all night before he finally cornered it. He was tired, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t power through, “I’ll try to be there before sundown. Anywhere I should meet you?”
“Meet me in Abbeville. It’s a town right off 90, since you’re comin’ East. There’s this little diner called Bomber’s Burgers. It’s between a huge church and a grocery store. I’ll meet you there.”
“You still driving that pickup?”
“Sure am.”
“Right. I’ll see you there.”
“See you soon,” Benny paused, “Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
Another pause. Dean heard the shuffle of movement. Benny’s voice was almost a whisper, “I’m runnin’ a little low on blood bags out here, if you wouldn’t mind stoppin’ on your way over.”
Dean smirked, “Blood bank or hospital?”
“Blood bank,” Benny exhaled, “If I’ve got the choice.”
“Gonna take me ‘till nightfall to be in Abbeville if I gotta stop.”
“Worth the wait.”
“And, lucky you, it’s Saturday. Plenty of people doin’ a good deed on their free weekends. There’s gonna be plenty of fresh young blood in those stocks, believe me.”
Benny let out a light, low groan on the other end of the phone, “Don’t tease me, Winchester. I’m about a coupl’a days away from having to hunt again, and the deer are a little thin in number here. I really don’t wanna have to fish for ‘gator or have to waste the energy hunting rabbits.”
“I’m not gonna let that happen, Benny. I’ll be there. Promise.”
“I know you will, chief. See you in Abbeville.”
Benny hung up. Dean lowered the phone. His senses buzzed. It hit him that he’d see Benny soon. He hadn’t seen him in almost a month.
Dean won’t try to lie to himself; Benny was a soft spot in his hard life. He was the one guy on the entire planet who never kept a secret from him. Who Dean didn’t look at and think, ‘There’s way more to this than he lets on.’ And Benny was the only one who deeply, truly, understood him on a level Dean couldn’t connect with anyone else.
Benny understood what it was like to be an animal.
Dean stopped himself. He needed to get on the road before he got lost in his own thoughts.
He stashed his knife away. He went back over to the body of the werewolf, grabbing its wrists, and dragging it outside.
—
Dean pulled into the parking lot of Bomber’s Burgers. The outside was short and white, a big cream banner stretched over the awning with the diner’s name in a bold, green font and a few airbrushed designs of WWII fighter jets and bomber planes. Like Benny said, it was nestled between a huge stonework Baptist church to the left, and a Wal-Mart to the right.
Dean parked Baby, shutting off the car and getting out. He scanned the parking lot. Even at seven at night, the lot still full. But, he didn’t see Benny’s pickup. Immediately, Dean thought, why not treat himself to a burger from Bomber’s while he waited? No sense in freezing out in the February weather. He walked up to the front door, opening it up.
If the diner’s theme wasn’t obvious by the outside, it definitely hit home on the inside. The walls were packed with WWII memorabilia. Photographs, knives, model planes, model ships, maps. It reminded Dean of homes of dad’s old Vietnam buddies.
And the place was packed. There was an ass in every seat. It made it difficult for Dean to pick out a navy wool captain’s coat and matching hat.
But then, he didn’t need to. A broad form slid out of a booth, and stood up straight.
“Dean Winchester,” Benny greeted.
“Benny,” Dean didn’t wait. He strode forward.
The two embraced. Benny was warm and solid, and hugged him tightly. It felt good - the hug, meeting up with Benny. Nobody seemed to be happy to see Dean anymore - other than the vamp in front of him.
“It’s been too long,” Dean said. He gave Benny a pat on the back, then peeled away, “How’ve you been?”
“Fine, fine,” He held Dean’s arms, looking him over, “You look…” He looked into Dean’s face, “Tired.”
“Yeah, well, an all-nighter hunting werewolves, then a straight eight hours - sorry, eight hours and ten minutes to rob a blood bank - can do that to ya’.” It was actually less time to rob the blood bank. While some workers were filling up a van with that day’s donations, Dean was able to slip into the loading bay, pack a cooler, and slip out. Dean just happened to stop next door for a slushie at a Gas-and-Sip right after.
Benny’s eyes lit up, “Yeah?” He leaned in, “What type?”
Dean smelled a faint cologne waft off Benny’s body, and something faintly metallic on Benny’s breath. “Grabbed whatever, but I think there may be a few extra O-negatives in there.”
Benny chuckled. It was loud and warm, “Great. I really appreciate you doin’ that for me, brother.”
“No sweat. You uh - “ He pointed to the door, “You need ‘em now?”
“Not yet,” He pat his belly, “Polished off my stash before you came.”
“Damn, already?”
“I indulge a little when I know I’ll be in a crowd,” He let go of Dean, patting his arm and motioning to the booth, “Go on, sit. I was just enjoyin’ a coffee while I waited for ya’.”
They sat down in the booth. Dean slid into the seat across Benny, the old green pleather creaking. The blinds of the window the booth sat in front of were closed. On the table wasn’t much but condiments, and a pair of thick-rimmed black sunglasses folded up on top of a newspaper.
As they sat, a waitress came over, “Your friend arrived, I see,” She said.
“Yeah,” Benny gave her a big grin, “Feels like I’ve waited a lifetime for him.”
Dean blinked. He gave the waitress an awkward grin, like what Benny said wasn’t ridiculously heartfelt and hit Dean right in his soul.
The waitress tapped her pen on her pad, “Well, the waiting’s over. What can I get you two other than more coffee?”
Dean looked over her shoulder. Above the diner counter was a big board of menu items - standard meals, like pancakes and omelets, but with fun names like Kamikaze Scrambler and Storming the Peaches of Normandy.
“Let me get a coffee and a Bomber Burger,” Dean gave her a big, friendly grin.
“Good choice,” She said, “It’s famous around here,” She jotted Dean’s order down, “Be back with another couple’a coffees, OK?” She walked off.
Benny looked Dean over, “What. No wolf-whistle?”
Dean shrugged, plucked at a nail, “Just a little tired and hungry, s’all.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Benny sat back in his seat, hands folded over his stomach, “Like when we met up again after my hometown.”
Dean smirked. That was a long night out, for sure. A couple days after Benny iced Martin Creaser, they met up in some small bar along the highway. Dean was still fresh emotionally from Sam’s exit, while Benny was pounding back blood bags, Martin’s blood stuck in his senses like a bad song.
The two spent the night pounding back whiskey. Benny took up to crowding the jukebox and playing as many blues tracks he could recognize, while Dean flirted the shorts off their bartender.
“Brunette. Leggy. What was her name…?” Dean looked off, trying to remember. He could see her face, hear her voice. But, he couldn’t remember for the life of him her name.
He did remember, though, Benny slumped up in the seat next to the jukebox. Dean kept looking over, and every time he did, Benny’s eyes were focused on him. Dean ended up leaving without the bartender (She was hot, but already had a boyfriend,) and crashing in the backseat of the Impala. Before he fell asleep, he remembered the outline of Benny and his coat, leaned up against the car, as if he were standing guard outside.
“I’m surprised you even remembered she was brunette,” Benny chuckled to himself. He took the sunglasses off the table, putting them into his coat pocket. He slid over the newspaper.
“Ready to get to business?”
Dean took it, “Always.” He opened it up. The article he needed was on the third page:
ANIMAL ATTACK CLAIMS LIFE OF SECOND VICTIM - LOCAL POLICE BAFFLED
The article detailed a series of animal attacks on the small coastal town of Pecan Island. Victim one, Rosie Stelton, female, 49, mother of one adult child. She was found four days ago, reported missing when she didn’t return home from work. Victim two, Jacob Larson, male, seventeen, youngest of a family of seven. He was found the day before, reported missing after failing to show up to school that morning. Both were found in different parts outside of town, both found the same day they were killed, and both found in pieces.
“Like you said,” Dean said after finishing his reading, “Locals blaming it on animal attacks. Kinda a small article for something so weird, ‘specially when there’s a kid involved.”
As soon as he spoke, his Bomber Burger and coffee were placed in front of him, as well as a fresh cup for Benny.
“So,” Benny put some sugar in his coffee, “What’s it look like to you?” Benny asked.
“Dunno. You learn anything about the graverobbing?” The Bomber Burger looked friggin’ awesome. Dean grabbed it, giving it a smell. It was greasy, and cheesy, and heart-achingly appetizing. He took a bite.
Goddamn, that was a good burger. The Bomber Burger was the bomb.
“Just that it’s been going on for a few weeks,” Benny ran a hand through his beard, “Back in my day, there were two things a dead body was good for,” He put up a finger, “Eating - “
Dean motioned to his burger, “Dude.”
A second finger, “And magic.”
Dean swallowed, “Whatcha thinkin’? Witch?”
“Maybe,” Benny took a sip of his coffee, “Small town. Nobody could really stop one from picking their share of a body for spell components.”
“So why take out the lady and the kid?”
“Collateral. Maybe they witnessed our witch robbin’ some graves, killed ‘em to keep ‘em quiet.”
“Could be that old ingredients aren’t doin’ the job, need something fresher for the spellwork,” Dean took another bite of his glorious, greasy burger, “You haven’t seen the bodies, have you?”
“They’re not letting just anybody walk into the morgue, chief. And it wouldn’t matter much, anyway. First vic was already buried, and she wasn’t much but pieces.”
“Still haven’t buried the boy?”
“Not yet. From what I’ve been able to glean from the gossip, they’re still studyin’ the bite marks on that kid’s body.”
“Talk to the family?”
“A bit, but…” He shook his head, “They’re not much for speakin’ right now.”
“Not surprised.” Dean finished his burger. He pushed the plate of fries over, “Fry?”
Benny waved as a no, “So, you interested?”
“You think I drove eight hours just to do a blood run for you?” He took a few fries, “First word of murder, I’m in.”
Benny gave him a grin, “So, when’re we leavin’?”
Dean paused, “We?”
“Yeah, why not?” Benny leaned back in his seat, staring around the diner, “I’m not doin’ much at the moment.”
Dean couldn’t hide a smile, “You wanna hunt with me?”
The vamp shrugged, “It doesn’t sit right with me. Whatever’s goin’ on down there.”
“Why’s that?”
Benny shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not a shining exemplary of vampire kind, Dean, but even my crew didn’t feed on kids. Whatever’s out there isn’t a thinkin’ creature.”
For a moment, all the years Benny lived folded into him. Dean let his gaze wander around Benny’s strong jaw. He traced the silver of his grown-out beard, following up his nose, into Benny’s very old, very soulful blue eyes.
And he felt that there was more than what Benny was telling him.
Benny turned his attention back to Dean. He looked him over, “What?”
“Nothin’,” Dean said. He took a sip of his coffee, “What do you know about the area?”
“Small coastal town. Gets beat up by hurricanes damn near every season, and very little foot traffic that aren’t duck hunters. There’s a church, gas station, corner store, and not much else. From here in Abbeville, Pecan Island is about an hour South. Halfway, there’s another little town, with a motel and a doctor’s office - that’s where they’re keepin’ the boy ‘till he can be interred.”
“You stayin’ in that motel?”
“Yeah. It’s called the Green Way. Nice place. Clean. Cheap. Owners don’t ask too many questions. They only have doubles, so if you need to bunk, I’d be happy to share,” He shot Dean a grin.
He shrugged, “Hey, saves me the extra cash, why not?”
The two finished off their coffees, paid, and left Bomber’s Burgers. Outside, Benny motioned to the Wal-Mart next door.
“Place was packed earlier, so I parked across the way.”
“Alright. You peel out, I’ll follow you.”
“See you at the motel,” He gave Dean a warm pat on the arm, and walked off, pulling his hat low.
–-
Baby rumbled as she followed the old faded pickup in front of her. The drive South was dark, but quiet, commuters having already reached home, leaving the roads empty. It didn’t take long for the two to reach the little town Benny described. Dean followed red tail lights as they pulled into a little parking lot a few minutes into the town’s boundaries. When Benny parked, Dean parked next to him. He shut Baby off, leaving. Benny did the same with his truck.
The Green Way Motel was a little strip of flat, white-walled, green-roofed rooms. Each cube was marked by a brown wooden door with gold number plates, and a four-by-four window with green curtains pulled.
“Nice digs,” Dean said to him. He rounded his car, and opened the trunk. On top of the hidden compartment was his clothes duffle and his old, green cooler. It was well-worn from love. And drunken rough handling. Dean was surprised Sam didn’t get rid of it while he was gone.
Benny approached, hands in his pockets, “Need help with your bags, sir?”
Dean smiled, “Just the cooler,” He pulled it out, leaning it against the edge of the trunk. He opened it, brushing away a layer of ice to show off the blood bags inside.
Even in the dark, Dean could see Benny’s eyes light up. His jaw flexed. He didn’t look away until Dean dug into the cooler. His hand closed around a bottle that was buried at the bottom.
“One for you,” Dean brought out a beer, “One for me.”
Benny copied Dean’s smile in appreciation. Dean threw the beer back in, and closed the cooler. He grabbed it, and slung his duffle over his shoulder.
“So,” He said, looking at the motel, “Which one’s yours?”
Benny jerked his head, “Right this way.”
Dean followed right behind Benny until he stopped in front of a door with the number four on the door plate. Benny reached into his pocket, and fished out a key with a green tag on the end. He turned the key in the lock, then held the door open. He bowed slightly.
“After you,” He said.
Dean grinned, and walked in. He flipped on a lightswitch by the door.
The rooms of the Green Way Motel were as Benny described; Modest and clean. Soft amber light lit the room from the ceiling. The walls were painted white, with a few framed photos of trees and swamps on them. Dean noticed two beds to his right, both with deep green blankets and pillows. Both were made, but the one farthest from the door had an old canvas duffle propped up on top.
In the back of the room was another brown wooden door, which was closed. Dean guessed it was the bathroom. He walked in further. To his left was a small kitchenette. It had a fridge, a counter, a stove, and a microwave. There was a small yellow table with two yellow chairs with metal trim under the front window, the green curtains drawn. Between the bathroom and the kitchenette, pushed up against the wall, was a TV cabinet.
“Not bad,” Dean said. He threw his duffle onto the free bed, carrying his cooler into the kitchen. He hauled it onto the counter, opening it up. He took out a beer, twisting the cap off, taking a swig.
He turned around, overlooking Benny, who sat down in one of the chairs beneath the motel room window. He took off his hat, put it down on the table’s surface, and started with the other effects in his jacket. His phone, a metal money clip, his sunglasses. He squinted in the soft amber light.
“You want me to turn the lights off?” Dean asked him. He didn’t care about meandering in the dark.
He waved him off, “I’m good, brother,” He pulled off his coat, laying it over the back of his chair.
Dean took him in. Benny looked good. Healthy. The faded white long sleeve he wore fit him like a glove, accentuating his broad chest and arms. His grey suspenders were pulled taut to keep his pants up, digging into the meat of his shoulders.
A nagging - something he felt since seeing Benny at the diner - compelled him to speak.
“Why’d you call me, Benny?” Dean asked.
Benny shrugged. He toed off his boots, “Thought you’d wanna work the case,” He said, eyes still pointed down.
Dean took out a bag of blood, O-negative. He rounded the little kitchenette table, walking closer, “Well, I do wanna work it,” He stopped in front of Benny, holding the bag out, “Why do you wanna work the case with me, Benny?”
Benny sat up, eyeing the bag. He took it, holding it in his lap, “Just thought maybe you’d need help. And I’m available right now, so, I thought,” He shrugged, “Why not?”
The two shared a look, then Benny looked at the bag in his lap, turning it over.
“Right,” Dean said, looking straight through him. Benny hid it well, well enough that anybody else wouldn’t have noticed, but Dean did. He’s felt the same way before - sure he’s looked the same to others in the past.
Benny was lonely.
And Dean couldn’t blame him. Creaser fucked up his chance to connect with his great-granddaughter, chased him out of his hometown. Dean knows personally some hunters who caught whiff of the killing, and came by to check out the scene. He was able to convince them that he and Sam took care of the vamp that killed Creaser, and that worked out great, but Dean couldn’t lie to Elizabeth. He couldn’t tell her that Benny wasn’t a vamp. That he wasn’t a killer. That the bloodstains would let up from the wooden floor of her cafe, and it’d all be sunshine and rainbows.
If only Cas was around back then. He could’ve helped Benny, wiped Elizabeth’s memory, maybe Martin Creaser’s. Like he had with Lisa and Ben.
But Cas was off finding Kevin and the demon tablet. And even though Dean prayed, he never answered. Too damn busy, Dean guessed.
And it made Dean lonely, too.
Dean took another drink of his beer, “Well, I’m happy to have you on the team, Benny.”
“Yeah. Likewise.” He raised the blood bag, biting into an IV end. He ripped off the end, spitting the plastic bit out in his hand.
Dean looked away, turning back to the kitchenette and his cooler. He wasn’t squeamish in Purgatory - Benny would bite into some monster and spray their dark blood everywhere and Dean wouldn’t even bat an eye. He’d just plunge the knife into their heart, for good measure, and end up smothered in it, too. But, this wasn’t monster-blood Benny was snacking on. It was human. And human blood made Dean squeamish. Force of habit.
Dean unpacked the cooler, and opened the fridge. It was empty. He stuffed Benny’s blood bags on the top shelf, and slid his beer in the middle shelf. He shut the fridge door, then the lid to his cooler, making a mental note to dump the ice later on.
When he turned around, the blood bag Benny was snacking on was half-empty. He had put it on the table, and was staring out the window through a small sliver of the curtains he peeled back.
“Not a star in the sky,” He muttered.
Dean finished off his beer, putting the empty bottle down on the kitchen counter. He peeled off his jacket, “I’m gonna shower.”
“Alright, chief,” Benny pulled his hand away, letting the curtain fall closed, “Just don’t use all the hot water.”
“Mhm,” Dean grabbed a clean pair of underwear, socks, and a shirt from his duffle, and his toiletries bag.
The motel bathroom was small, but clean. Toilet, sink, shower with a frosted glass door, and a bar with a two green towels. The lightbar above the sink mirror was a white LED, making the white tile even whiter, glaring to Dean’s senses. He set his clothes on top of the toilet, and turned the water on. While it warmed up, Dean stripped off his clothes. He didn’t get a chance to wash off the sweat from the morning’s hunt, and probably stunk.
Hot water flowed over Dean’s body when he stepped inside. He closed his eyes, face pointed at the shower nozzle. The flow was limper than the pressure-washer flow Dean preferred, but it was hot. That’s all that mattered. That it was hot and came from a pipe, instead of cold, and from a river.
He grabbed one of the tiny pine soaps provided by the motel, and scrubbed at his skin. He tried to think about the case; two dead and a score of missing bodies, but his thoughts kept drifting off to the vampire sitting in the room outside.
It was good to have someone to work with again. It was even better to work with someone who was happy (Dare Dean say, excited,) to see him. And happy to work the case. Someone who didn’t gripe and grumble and bitch about what they were doing.
Someone who didn’t choose another person over him.
Dean finished his shower. He brushed his teeth, gathered his clothes, and left the bathroom. Benny was sitting on his bed, leg shaking, new clothes in his lap. He shared a tired grin, then stood up.
“How’s the water?”
“Nice and hot,” Dean said.
The two passed one another. Dean caught a whiff of Benny’s cologne, and for, a moment, his eyes shut. He breathed it in, catching notes of…fuck, Dean didn’t know. But he smelled good.
He turned, just as the bathroom door shut.
Dean crossed the room, threw down his dirty clothes, and threw himself down on top of his bed. The mattress was soft, and the sheets were clean, and smelled like fabric softener. He heard some shuffling from the bathroom, and then heard the shower turn on.
He drifted off to the sound of Benny’s shower, eased by his presence.